Jugend

[Author's Note: This is the outcome of a writing exercise from Jeff VanderMeer's book Wonderbook, found on page 25 of the Revised Edition]

Michel pored over the musty scrolls and ancient dusty tomes. The light from outside dimmed with the approach of dusk, but still he worked, his study illuminated only by flickering candlelight and the shekinah of his halo.

Hugin, a parrot, and Munin, a cockatoo, fluttered around the room, perching on the antlers of some long-dead deer head mounted on the wall, or a bust of Athena, or any of the other bird-friendly detritus scattered about his sanctum sanctorum.

“Found it yet?” asked Hugin, landing on the edge of his current book. Munin chirped from within the mouth of an opened alligator skull.

“No,” said Michel. 

“What are you going to tell the old man?” asked Hugin.

“I will find it,” said Michel. He waved away the bird.

Munin began pecking at a small book with a bright cover. Michel saw the word Kinderspiel written across the spine. “Bah,” he said to the bird, whose head feathers were now fully extended, “I need serious writings, not that which is for the entertainment of children!” With his massive fist, he swept the book away, sending the bird fluttering into the air, eventually taking roost on a silver chandelier.

The Michel saw it. “Roses are read. Ink is black. Tie it with a ribbon.” It stared at him from the book on the floor. He set down a treatise on molecular histomancy and plucked the children’s book from the floor with a whuf as he bent over.

“Could it be this simple?” he said. He looked at the words printed on the page. He opened his study window and plucked a rose from below the eaves. This he set upon the table next to a pot of India ink.

“What’s so simple?” asked Hugin. Without a word, Michel plucked a tailfeather from the bird, who squawked in indignation before joining his comrade on the chandelier. That done, he pulled a ribbon from between the pages of a book. Setting the three items down, he surveyed them.

“I think I can do this,” he said. He wrote a word of power upon the petals of the rose, careful not to look directly at what he wrote. Additionally, he wrote words of binding on the ribbon. These he could freely read as he wrote, though they looked like a knotwork of lines. That done, he arranged the silk into the shape of a seven-point star.

The birds peered down at him as he worked. Munin looked at Hugin and chirped. Hugin gave the bird equivalent of a shrug.

Michel finished his tasks. “Roses are read,” he said, picking up the rose and looking at the word of power. He dipped the stem into the ink. “Ink is black,” he said before tossing the dripping rose into the center of the star. “Tie it with a ribbon,” he said as the rose began to glow. “So it won’t go back.” With that, the rose exploded into a shower of light. It multiplied like an out-of-control vine, growing so fast that even the birds were scared. It entwined itself within the star, but kept growing, spreading out into the study. It knocked a mirror from the wall, which landed among its brambles. The surface of the mirror shimmered like water, and soon the surface rippled.

A massive spotted creature, part fish, part dragon, part demon, emerged from the rippling waves of the mirror. It was fatter than Michel, at least doubly so. It took one look at the man and his birds and laughed. “What is it you seek?” it said in a wet and hollow voice.

Michel stroked his chin for a moment. The birds took to his shoulders. He considered his next words. “I seek knowledge,” he said at last. “Real knowledge.”

The demon fish laughed once more. It sent a chill across the room. From within his wings he produced a fruit. The fruit looked like the cross of an apple and an eyeball. This he handed to Michel. “Be warned,” he said, “that this fruit comes with certain consequences.”

“Don’t they always,” said Michel. He took the fruit from the thing and turned to leave.

“Wait,” said the creature when Michel got to the door. “I can’t seem to go back.”

Michel turned to look at the thing. “No, you can’t, can you?” he said. He left the room.

In the hall, he met Hervor. She smiled as she saw him approach.

“Well?” she said. He held up the strange fruit.

“Oh, he’ll appreciate this,” she said. She took the fruit and flew off toward the Great Hall. Meanwhile, Michel returned to his study. He found a book of verse, sat by the fire, and began to read, ignoring the birds and the demon.